A Robinson Tale - Part 3: Tempus Fugit
by Colin904
Summary: A time to sleep, a time to fly, a time to lose track of time. Sequel to A Robinson Tale - part 2: The Storm.
1. Chapter 1

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 1

You can control this, Judy told herself as she hung up the radio. She massaged her neck, tilted her head side to side, and squared her shoulders to release the tension building up in her body with each spike in the eerie melody. The cockpit wasn't closing on her. The door was opened. She wasn't trapped.

Knowing the alien tech's frequency was tapping directly into her limbic system made it easier to rationalize her physical and emotional reactions to it, but it didn't make the experience any more pleasant.

She was inserting the earbuds Harris had given her a moment ago when her sister burst in the cockpit, her hands pressed against her ears. Judy removed one earbud to hear what she was saying.

"I can't wake up dad."

A lump formed into Judy's throat. Despite her mother's arguments, she still believed it was better for him to be asleep than awake under these stressful conditions. Right now, she was more worried at her sister red, puffy eyes.

"I'll wake him when we manage to stop the ship from howling. Here, put these on." She gave her the earbuds.

"But you?"

"I'm okay."

"Once again, playing the tough guy, eh?"

"Say thank you, Penny."

"Thank you, Penny."

Judy rolled her eyes and both sisters laughed in a way that had little to do with the quality of the joke.

"I'll go find another pair for you."

"Thank you, Penny," Judy shouted as her sister put on the earbuds and left.

The annoying alien wail suddenly transformed into a piercing screech.

Judy's body tensed like a spring. Cold sweat pearled on her forehead and a shudder ran down her spine. Her knees hit the deck. A part of her mind, still lucid, deduced that she'd collapsed; the other dived into oppressive, icy darkness. Judy bit her lips and clung onto the pain to stay grounded but that sound was driving her insane! She curled into a ball, her hands pressed over her ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her eyes grew wide. Only one thing was heavy enough to make the deck shake like that. And it was behind her.

"Hey, Jude? Look who's back!"

Will's shout was like an electroshock. She pivoted and screamed:

"Tell him to shut down that freaking noise!"

Her brother asked, but the robot didn't seem to care. As Penny and Harris burst into the cockpit, he walked past her and stopped in front of the windshield. A new tremor shook the deck and forced everybody to grab on a console or a seat to keep their balance while, at the bottom of the robot's feet, black eels sprung from the deck and rose in the air, twisting around each other.

It was the alien tech taking over the ship, not eels. It was cables. The same cables that had invaded the basement and the engine room. Not eels.

Judytried to take a deep breath but only drew a shallow one, like an invisible weight compressed her ribcage. The feeling of claustrophobia was getting unbearable.

Despite her effort to stay grounded, her vision began to blur. She knew she was on the verge of losing consciousness and fought hard to keep her eyes opened but darkness became total.

The deck was still shaking. And it still felt like someone was sitting on her chest, pinning her back into the deck. She let out a sob. She couldn't even move her arms! No matter how strong she was, how strong everybody think she was, she couldn't get through this by herself... she needed help!

"Dad!"

A blue strike of lightning exploded the darkness around her.

The massive silhouette of the robot appeared right above her.

Judy screamed. But the robot didn't crash on her.

She stared at him, panting hard.

How could he stay horizontal, suspended in the air, and not crash on her? And why was her running playlist playing so loud in her ears? She frowned, puzzled as slowly, the fog in her mind cleared.

She was strapped into the pilot's seat. The tremor was not an earthquake: it was take-off. A vertical take-off judging by her position. In front of her, the robot was holding himself to some structure he'd made with his cables. A weird, spooky arch glowing white. It must be some kind of navigational control system. And last but not least, they were hurtling through the atmosphere in the middle of the fiercest storm of their lives.

Judy glanced around and released a shaky breath. Will, Harris, and Penny were secured in their seats.

But the sight of them offered little relief.

Another lightning bolt hit the Jupiter's hull. Power surges exploded from all the consoles around them.

"MOM!" she cried as the lights switched off and the ship plummeted into an air pocket.

A violent jolt put an end to their sudden and rapid drop. The lights came back. Judy tried to catch her breath but the reprieve was brief. The ship swerved to the right, and dropped again before resuming its ascent. All of her organs pressed against her spine with each push. With each drop, her stomach rose to her mouth and bile burnt her throat. Her blood drained from her face and suddenly rushed back in a painful wave. The pressure in her ears and in her eyes threatened to turn her deaf and blind while crushing forces tore her body apart.

Blue lightning struck the hull again and again and sparks kept spraying around her. Certain once more that her death was upon her, Judy closed her eyes and cried, thinking about her mom and Don still on the surface. How were they going to land back if the robot had a mind of his own?

As suddenly as it had begun, the madness stopped and the ship stabilized.

Panting, Judy opened her eyes and stared at the darkness outside the windshield. Here they were again, in space.

Her fingers shaking, she detached her harness and collapsed on the deck, her legs too numb to carry her weight. As she pushed herself up, she glanced at Will and Penny and Harris. All seemed as conscious as her.

Relieved, Judy took a moment to get a hold of herself, breathing in and out slowly to slow down her racing heart and calm her frayed nerves.

"Now would be a good time to stop your tech from singing," she said to the robot.

The robot turned its shiny silver face toward her and nodded.

Carefully, Judy removed her earbuds and let out a deep sigh when Penny retched behind her.

Switching into doctor's mode, she staggered toward her sister, glancing at Will who was still strapped in the copilot's seat. Her brother was pale and had dark circles under his eyes.

She put a hand on his knee as he unbuckled his harness. "Keep off your feet for a moment, Will."

"We're in space…" he whispered.

"I know."

While her brother stared incredulously at the darkness beyond the windshield, Judy assessed Harris at a glance. The woman was sitting next to the communication console and stared at the robot. She was paler than usual.

"Are you okay?" Judy felt compelled to ask her.

"Yes, I am. Thanks for asking."

The clear, strong voice had a jarring effect on Judy. The woman's stamina was astonishing. She shrugged off the bitter feeling and joined her sister at the back of the cockpit. Gently, she held her shoulders, helped her sit down a few feet away, and stroke her back.

"Now I know what happens to clothes during the spin drying cycle," Penny muttered after a moment, leaning back and pressing a hand on her forehead. "My head hurts..."

Judy chuckled. Color was coming back to her sister's cheeks. "You're going to be fine. Just take it slow for a few more minutes."

But as she gave her this advice, Penny straightened up fast. "Wait! Where's dad?"

A rush of blood warmed Judy's face. No harness, no earplugs, he was certainly hurt and confused. At once, she grabbed the emergency medkit by the door, and was springing to her feet when Penny's fingers clawed on her arm. "Sit down, Penny, and stay here with Will," she said as her brother staggered out of the cockpit.

No, no, no, no! Judy freed herself from her sister's grasp and rushed after Will in the corridor. "Will, stop!"

As Penny sprinted with her, Judy's blood boiled. Why did nobody ever listen to her? She wasn't trying to be bossy. The alien frequency had wrecked him completely the first time, making him discharge a gun between the fuel tanks. And after he'd almost killed Harris, mistaking her for an enemy soldier from a vivid nightmare, she didn't want anybody to drop on him if he wasn't in his right mind.

Will opened the door and burst into the suite. "Dad?"

Judy stopped him just a few steps away from the master bedroom door, but Penny passed by her and switched on the lights. "Are you crazy? Turn them off immediately!" she said, making an effort to keep her voice down.

"He's not there," Penny said as Judy quickly dimmed the lights.

"You sure?" she whispered while Penny tip-toed into the bedroom, checked around the bed and the office nook. "All clear."

Judy let out a sigh of relief. "He must have wandered off in all the confusion."

"Wandered off?" Will repeated with a cringe. "You make him sound like he's crazy. Dad's not crazy."

"No, of course not. What I said–"

"You think he has PTSD," Penny interrupted. "And that the alien sound could have triggered a violent crisis. That he's mentally unstable and unsafe to be around."

Judy exhaled deeply. She had warned her sister not to read soldiers memoirs or tales of war. "Dad's been cleared by a whole team of psychologists, like the rest of us. He's fine."

"Harris has been cleared too and, no offense, but she is nuts."

Hearing Will's feeble apology, Judy realized that Harris had joined them in the room. Now she was glad her father wasn't here to see that them whispering and bickering at each others.

"None taken," the woman replied. "Judy? May I have a word with you. It's important."

Judy frowned when she saw Harris insistent gaze and the silent plea in them not to let her siblings hear what she had to say. "Now is not the time."

"Now is the only time," Harris replied quickly.

"We're _wasting_ time," Penny growled. "He might be hurt. I'm going to check the basement."

"Coming with you," Will said, turning away when the bathroom door slid open.

Their father froze on the doorstep, surprised to see them. "What are you all doing here?"

"Thank god, you're alright!" Will said, throwing himself into his father's arms

"Why wouldn't I be?"

His smirk failed to reassure Judy. She was beginning to see how he and Don operated and dismissed his bravado. His eyes were red and puffy and he was too pale. Exhaustion. Dehydration. Fever? She needed her med pad to get a clearer picture.

While Will rapidly described everything that had happened since he'd lied down for his nap, she looked at his left hand, wrapped in a thick gauze to the wrist. A sprain? Or not.

"I think it's his way of communicating with the ship," Will concluded his theory about the alien melody.

"Guys? Could you give us a minute?" Judy asked, just noticing the blood oozing and trickling down his fingers.

"We don't have a minute," her father replied, gently pushing Will aside before striding out of the suite.

Judy cursed to herself as she ran after him, torn between relief at seeing him alert and fear of an imminent collapse. Why did nobody listen to her? But as she entered the cockpit, a rush of adrenaline straightened her whole body. The robot was gone!

Her father leaped into the pilot's seat and she went for the co-pilot's to assist him. Landing back on the planet was the new priority. But he'd barely grabbed the power throttle that a powerful, dissonant shriek burst out.

Judy's eyes went wide with terror as the oppressive weight in her chest returned, even stronger than before.

Black cables sprang from beneath their consoles and crept up along their legs. In a matter of seconds, they tightened around their chests, arms, and necks while the robot's heavy footsteps reverberated in the corridor. The massive, dark silhouette stopped between her and her father. Red and silver dots cascaded fast in his face.

Tears ran down Judy's cheeks as she struggled to free herself. The alien screech pierced her ears. Her head was spinning.

"Hey! My wife's still on the planet. I don't know about your world, but in mine, we never leave people behind!"

Fighting to stay conscious, Judy tried to turn her head toward her father but she was immobilized.

"Hey, I'm talking to you! You took us hostage by bringing us here. That gives you a responsibility for our lives. Take us back to the planet."

"Dad..." Judy whispered. Her voice seemed distant. Her field of vision grew dim and contracted to a smaller and smaller circle in front of her as the seconds ticked by. The last thing she heard before passing out was the furious beating of her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 2

Sensations returned to John's body, a slow drop by drop of sharp pains and burning needles. The nausea that had afflicted him earlier in the day, prompting him to skip lunch and take a nap, brought bile to his mouth again. He curled into a ball. He hated feeling like he was floating above the bed. His mind drifted in the darkness when a dissonant screech sent his heart rate sky high.

A bright light exploded and he dropped like a stone.

John was on his feet before his eyes opened. The airlock. What was he doing in the airlock?

Heart racing, he staggered over Harris's backpack and mattress to the internal door and stared at the empty corridor. He punched the intercom button.

"Anybody hear me?"

The ship did. And its answer sent cold shudders running down his spine. John leaned his forehead against the bulkhead, took a deep breath, then repeated his call.

_"Dad? What's going on?"_

"Penny! Where are you?"

_"The robot locked us in the hub. I'm with Will, Judy, and Harris."_

Jude... "How is your sister?"

_"I think she's asleep. What's going on? Where are you?"_

John let out a deep sigh and silently thanked god. "I'm stuck in the airlock. Can you see inside the cockpit?

_"No. The blast doors are shut."_

"Alright. Listen, you stay in the hub. No matter what happens, you stay inside, Penny, do you hear me?" he said while he entered his emergency code in the computer terminal. Nothing happened.

_"We're locked in anyway. How are you going to get out?"_

"I'm working on it."

John released the button to end the communication and slammed his fist into the bulkhead. Blood dripped on the floor. The gauze wrapped around his injured hand was soaked but there was nothing he could do about this unless– His eyes trained on Harris's backpack. Relishing the opportunity to search through the woman's belongings, John groped inside the main compartment and retrieved her pad. But no surprise, it was biometrically locked.

John took out his usb drive from his pocket and plugged it in. While the hacking software collected Harris's data, he assessed his options. They were only two ways to exit an airlock. The internal door was sealed. That left the E.M.U.. Now, that was an idea he didn't like at all.

The lights flickered and died.

A sudden dizzy spell seized him. John raised his hands over his head just in time to cushion his impact with the ceiling. No light. No gravity. No ventilation. What was going on?

Power came back without warning and he crashed to the deck.

For the second time, he pushed himself back on his feet, cradling his left arm. But a violent shock jolted the Jupiter and sent him bouncing between the bulkheads like a pinball.

Once more, the lights died and gravity ceased to exist.

In the darkness, a small red light turned green.

John reached into the middle of Harris's floating belongings to grab her pad, unplugged his usb drive, and slid it back into his pocket when a darker shadow outside the ship caught his eye.

For the next minute, John stared outside while asteroids of all sizes swirled around them. A small one grazed them. The nail-on-blackboard sound it made on the hull made all his hair stand up. What the hell was the robot thinking? The Jupiter wasn't built to fly through asteroids fields. It was only a matter of time before one caused a major breach.

A clock of doom began ticking in John's mind.

He couldn't stay here.

Gravity wasn't coming back and his breath produced a thin fog. The temperature was dropping.

John opened the E.M.U. storage compartment, grabbed a suit, and dressed up. Providing his emergency codes hadn't been revoked when he'd been thrown into the airlock, he could access the ship through any hatch. But how was he going to take back the Jupiter? A direct confrontation with the robot was unlikely to turn out well for him. One problem at a time. First, get out and reach the bottom hatch without being smashed by an asteroid. Once in the garage, he'll reassess his options.

Fifteen minutes later, his suit's computer announced that the depressurization was complete. John strapped himself on the e.m.u. control platform, grabbed the joystick, and pushed the button to open the airlock door.

A boulder-size asteroid passed right in front of his eyes. His throat dried faster than a water drop in Death Valley.

Using the joystick, he deployed the arm outside the Jupiter.

The arm was the only safe way to reach the lower hatch but it had been designed for careful inspections and repairs. Normally speed wasn't an issue, but right now it felt like driving a wheelchair in a NASCAR race. Sweat broke on his forehead.

He was finally reaching the hatch when a deep soundwave whacked his back and ripped through him.

John coughed and drew a raspy breath. His pulse pounded painfully in his ears. What had just happened?

Grunting, he pushed himself away from the hatch when a spasm flipped his stomach. Bile and blood flowed into his mouth. Great, his nose was bleeding. The tingling sensation and searing pain in his right ear left no doubt about the state of his eardrum. That wasn't an asteroid what had hit him. But what was it?

Shaking from head to toe, John glanced above his shoulder and felt his guts liquefy instantly.

What the heck was this hellish thing doing here?

A dark ship, the same as the one that had flown over him and Don while they were orbiting the planet in a piece of the Watanabe's Jupiter, was hovering behind a cloud of dust, remnants of a stadium-wide asteroid.

John felt like a deer caught in headlights.

They were in the asteroid field to hide from this ship. And they'd just been ferreted out.

The robot had locked him in the airlock so he wouldn't interfere, and shut off all systems. The ships were like two submarines in a seek and destroy scenario. By sneaking out, using the arm, he'd revealed their location.

Just when John thought things couldn't get worse, his senses detected something weird in the cloud of debris. Something moving toward them. Something moving fast, jumping like a spider from asteroid to asteroid. A robot.

John entered his passcode on the external hatch access panel.

Denied.

Come on!

He pressed on the keys again, not daring to look behind his shoulder because he had no time to waste and only one way to defend himself: take cover.

Denied.

He didn't know what would kill him faster: another soundwave burst or the killer robot swooping on him.

The wheel on the hatch turned counterclockwise and a regular, controlled stream of air blew out.

John unhooked himself from the arm, opened the hatch, slid feet first into the dark and narrow shaft. As soon as the door sealed shut, the re-pressurization initiated. A soaring pain shot through his burst eardrum. John yelped but forced himself to keep moving. He grabbed the internal door, pushed it open, and let himself float up the shaft. A violent shock jolted the ship with the metallic resonance of a torpedo. A fury of hail hit the hull. John pressed his feet against the shaft and closed the internal door.

He was resuming his ascension toward the main deck when the ship lit up, gravity came back, and the alien screeching noise burst into his injured ears.

A dark veil fell over John's eyes before he hit the garage floor.


	3. Chapter 3

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 3

As someone grabbed his shoulders and rolled him to his back, John gasped for air and coughed and spit.

A blurry face appeared before his eyes. Dark hair. Fair skin.

Harris.

Her lips moved but waves roared in his ears and he couldn't hear anything she said.

John squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply, once, twice. They were in space, in an asteroid field, under attack. A discharge of adrenaline woke him up at once and he bounced to his feet.

The garage swirled before his eyes like he was on a merry-go-round turning at full speed. He jerked his left hand to a ladder rung to keep his balance. Pain radiated from his fingers up to his elbow. The tinnitus in his ears increased in intensity. The edges of his vision darkened and he collapsed on his knees at the bottom of the shaft, panting and retching.

_Anyone wants to quit?*_ Instructor D.'s voice barked in his pounding head.

Shut the fuck up!

John hauled himself back to his feet. He was climbing up when he saw boots coming down.

"Watch out!"

The boots reversed at full speed.

As he stepped on the deck, Judy's hand reached for his elbow. Their eyes met. Her lips moved, but again, he heard nothing. Wonderful! He was deaf. But on the good side, his legs felt stronger by the second and the nausea ebbed.

"I'm good," he said, raising his hand to brush off Harris's unnecessary attention. The woman stumbled a few feet backwards, tripped and fell. "Sorry."

Embarrassed but too much in a hurry to stop, John resumed his way to the cockpit, trying not to look like a drunken sailor between two taverns.

And drunk John thought he truly was when he stepped in the Jupiter's flight deck.

They weren't in space anymore.

Under a brownish sky stretched a surreal landscape of grey and purple rocky mounds growing in the middle of swamps sweating white fumes.

"Where are we?"

The robot swivelled its sleek, globular, face of grey dots toward him, lifted its arm, and pointed one claw-like finger toward the exterior.

Wary of once again provoking the robot's defensive mechanisms, John held his hands up before pointing a finger toward the starboard consoles. "I just want to activate the ship's sensors."

The robot's dots remained grey and John took it as a permission to access the computers. The environmental data was already displayed on the main screen and they weren't encouraging: twice Earth's atmospheric pressure; minus one-hundred-eighty degrees Celsius, methane, nitrogen...

A sudden and strong vertigo forced him to lean on the console. John squinted and clenched his jaw. A diffuse feeling of panic grew, twisting his guts in knots. How was he going to rescue Maureen if he didn't even know where he was? Were they even in the same system? Were they safe from a subsequent attack?

A hand touched his arm.

John side glanced to his left. Judy was holding her mother's lucky whiteboard in front of his eyes.

_INFIRMARY _was written on it.

"Later."

Judy flinched. Was he shouting?

_NOW._

She was. His shoulders sagged.

Since he'd regained consciousness, he felt like he was riding in a helo without ear protection. His left hand had tripled in size in his glove and he could barely bend his fingers. Weirdly, even as his stomach yo-yoed, he was hungry and thirsty, though he wouldn't dare to put anything in his stomach just now. All he could do was focusing on their new situation.

John returned his attention to the environmental datas when Judy grabbed his left arm. He jerked it away with a curse.

Judy stared back at him, eyes wide with concern and fear.

"All right," he whispered, pushing himself away from the console. The thorough geophysical analysis of this planet would take the computers another couple of hours anyway. In the meantime, he could use a break.

But he hadn't set foot on the ramp when the robot sprang forward to block his way. Then, under John's surprised eyes, the robot pointed its finger again toward the outside world.

Was this a rudimentary attempt to communicate through sign language? John pointed outside. "What's out there so important?"

The robot's lethargic silver dots suddenly animated like a bee hive.

Let's try again. John pointed toward the console. "We need telemetry to tell us what's outside." As he said outside, John pointed back to the windshield. "I won't go outside without telemetry." He pointed again at the console.

The robot tilted its head as if he processed the statements. Then, he straightened up and turned to the navigation console. As John moved closer to him, the robot brought up the Jupiter's layout and pointed to the engines.

No, not the engines.

John's eyes grew wider. "Fuel?" He pointed outside again. "There's fuel out there?"

The robot lowered its head in an apparent nod.

"I'll be damned," John muttered. The fog was basically gasoline fumes coming from methane lakes, like on Titan. But why did they need fuel? Wasn't the alien technology enough to power the ship? A more important question swept his previous interrogations. "Once we refuel, will you get us back to my wife and Don?"

A nod again. A heavy weight vanished from John's chest.

"Judy?"

His daughter jumped. John grabbed the pen and the whiteboard and wrote: 3D print splint left hand w/ fingers support. Above glove.

Judy mouthed "no" and shook her head vigorously. She took the pen from his fingers and wrote: permanent loss of hearing.

She underlined three times her words.

He didn't care. For all he knew, the damage was maybe already done. John circled his instruction. "You do your job so I can you do mine," he said, trying not to shout.

Then, he strode out of the cockpit, bumping into the pilot seat on his way. Arh!... His balance was definitely off.

He was searching through the infirmary drawers for painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs when Judy stormed in and held the whiteboard once more in front of him:

As a doctor you're asking me to break my oath to do no harm and as a daughter you're asking me to put mom's life above yours. How can you ask me to make that kind of choice?

John felt his patience wear thin.

"I'm not asking you. The choice is mine, not yours."

Judy's eyes wavered, but she maintained her glare, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Oh, god, she could be stubborn!

John dropped on the stool at the desk and scratched at his unshaven face. Going headlong into an argument with his daughter would not get him her cooperation. He needed that splint. It was going to be hard enough with it. But he'd do it.

"Look, Jude, if you see someone hurt on the road, you'd help, even if you're sick or late or if it comes at a bad time for you or your family. Nothing else will matter because being a doctor is not just a job. Like you said, you took an oath. I took an oath too. Twenty-four years ago when I joined the Navy and another six years later when I married your mother. To protect her and you, then your sister and your brother. In an hour or so, I'll go out to refuel the Jupiter so we can fly back to her. There's nothing you can do or say that will stop me. I just can't step aside. I'm a soldier, Jude. It's not just a job. It's who I am. God knows your mom understood it all too well."

John swallowed hard as he watched his daughter's gaze melt into tears as she listened to him.

"I can do this. It's pretty straight-forward. And I won't be alone. The robot will do much of the muscle work. I'll essentially supervise the operation."

Judy grabbed the pen again:

Supervise from inside.

John sighed. "It requires teamwork."

Judy clenched the pen in her fingers:

You don't understand. We're not your team. We're your family. And you're not expandable. You just suffered a concussion. If you go out there, the risk that you develop decompression sickness is too high.

"The atmospheric pressure's not strong enough for that. But I'll program the computer to purge the toxic air as soon as the door shuts and decompress the airlock at the slowest rate possible. It'll be fine."

Judy wrote hurriedly: I know nothing about hyperbaric medicine.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay. Now he understood. He was dropping her right into a battlefield without the training to rely on.

"You read the specialist's reports in my medical files, all the protocols, everything's in there. You're a quick learner."

Judy removed her hand from his and walked a few steps away, her shoulders tense. No matter how mature and strong she was for an eighteen-year-old woman, if he died out there, she would never forgive herself, and John hated himself for placing her in this situation.

When his daughter faced him an instant later, all her emotions had been cut off and a detached, serious, professional expression replaced them.

I want your word you'll come back inside if you feel any symptoms, she wrote.

"Fair enough."

She stared at him like she was drilling a hole into his eyes to access his soul and see if he was sincere. John winced. "Painkillers, please?"

Three hours later, John paused at the airlock's internal doorframe.

In the middle of all their equipment stood the two most unusual teammates he'd ever had: the robot and Harris. Which one was the most reliable was anyone's guess. As cooperative as their mood was at that moment, it was hard to forget that both of them, at one point or another, had hurt him and his family. They also had saved their lives, multiple times. In any case, he'd better watch his back.

John tapped on Harris's shoulder to get her attention.

"Listen to me carefully. You're wearing a soft-shell space suit that was designed to maintain a standard pressure in a no-gravity environment. That won't work today. As soon as we step outside, our bodies will be subjected to the planet's strong pull. Everything, including us, will weigh twice more. There's no way I can put this mildly. It'll suck for your knees. If you need to take a break, tell me. It's alright. But I want you to stay on your feet. Don't sit down. Not only will it be a pain to get back up, but you might tear a hole in your suit. Don't drop anything, especially not on your toes. You'll crush your bones. Squat to put down or to lift stuff or you'll ruin your back. Get it?"

Harris's eyes widened but she nodded. "Don't sit down, don't drop anything, squat."

John leaned forward as she talked. Thankfully, his tinnitus had receded enough to get some hearing back in his left ear.

"Breathe deep and slow. We've got ten hours' worth of air for a job that will take us a bit over one, so no need to rush. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast."

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast*." Harris frowned. "What if I tear a hole in my suit?"

"Sorry. Say again."

Harris shouted her question. John pointed to the duct tape rolls on top of the tool drawer. "Hook one to your belt. Don't lose critical time trying to break up a piece. Just roll the tape around the gash. Got it?"

Harris's eyes darkened. "What if I tear it at several places?"

"Don't and you'll be fine. Now tell me: did you ever travel by plane?"

"A few times when I was a child. Why?"

"Remember your ears popping?"

"I think so."

"That's the pressure in your ears and sinuses equalizing with the changing ambient pressure. In a plane, those fluctuations are kept to a minimum. For us today, it'll be a hell of a different story, so listen carefully to what I'm about to say. Outside this door, there's a toxic atmosphere. But what's more likely to kill you is the decompression process when we get back inside the airlock."

Harris paled. John squeezed her shoulder and locked eyes with her.

"I programmed the computer to decompress the airlock at a very slow pace, so everything should be fine. But if for any reason we need to speed up the process, you need to remember one thing: don't hold your breath. Don't hold your breath or you'll blow your lungs out. Got it?"

"Don't hold my breath."

"Okay. Now, what do you know about the bends?"

"The what?"

"Our air is a mix of oxygen and nitrogen. Once outside, those two gases will compress and diffuse in our bodies. Oxygen's no worry at this pressure, but nitrogen for some people can be as nasty as a tequila shot on an empty stomach. You need to tell me if you start feeling light-headed, if you notice a decrease in coordination, or any difficulty focusing on your task, and I definitely need to know if you see pink elephants flying. Tell me and I'll get you back in the airlock, alright? Same thing, if I order you to go back inside, for whatever reason, you need to obey, understood?"

The woman's lips were pressed so tightly together they formed one thin straight line as she acknowledged his directive.

"It's getting darker outside. And with the constant fumes rising from the methane ponds, you want to watch where you put your feet down. I'll attach a thirty-foot-long life line to your belt and to the airlock. Under no circumstances do you detach yourself, hear me?"

Harris's head sank further into her shoulders as she nodded.

"Relax. We're not doing a halo jump above a war zone. It's going to be fine. Our friend here will do a lot of the work for us. Right, buddy?"

The robot tilted his head and the white dots contracted at the center of its face for a brief second when Harris said: "Relax. Got it."

John bit his lips to stop himself from smirking. "Now answer me: what's your job?"

"To secure both pipes together. Help you carry them to the edge of the methane lake. Wait for your signal before turning the pump on."

John almost expected a "Sir!" to punctuate her list. Harris would make a good recruit after all. "Perfect. Any other questions?"

"Is there a risk of explosion with all the methane?"

"The only oxygen for a combustion reaction is the one contained in our tanks. Don't pierce yours and I won't pierce mine, do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. Anything else?"

Harris shook her head.

John raised his eyes toward the camera centered above the outside door. "Will? You there, buddy?"

"Yes, dad."

"Time to pressurize the airlock."

"Understood. Beginning pressurizing to two bars in three, two, one. Now."

As the pressure increased, tears of pain ran down John's eyes. He blinked them away and stared at his wrist computer. Underneath it, safely wedged against his arm, was the picture of Maureen with the kids he'd taken on their last skiing trip to Lake Tahoe six years ago. Since he'd been reassigned to military intelligence, he'd stopped wearing the worn-out picture during his missions. At that moment, he was glad that he had taken the time to rekindle this tradition.

We're coming back, Maureen. We're coming back. I'll never leave you behind again.

Will's tiny voice pierced his ears like a white hot needle. "Pressure at one and a half bars."

"Tonight's special is meatballs. Try not to be late," Penny announced.

"I'll do my best."

"You be careful out there, okay?"

"And put you out of work?"

"I'm in stitches."

John laughed at Judy's crack.

"Two bars. Opening outside hatch. Good luck, dad!"

"Thanks, buddy. See you all in a while."

John rolled his shoulders back, tilted his head right and left. Then, as the hatch opened, he set his eyes straight and emptied his mind of everything that could go wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 4

A blanket of white, toxic fumes invaded the airlock.

John raised his arm and watched his hand disappear in the thick mist. Last time he'd seen something like this had been during a survival training in Alaska. He hadn't thought that possible: today was colder. He was stepping toward the ledge, the thrill of his halo Jump above the icy vastness of the Northern state reinvigorating his body, when a red hue suddenly colored the fog. He flattened against the bulhkead fast as the robot crawled out of the airlock like a spider. Aghast, he then put a hand on the hatch frame and stretched his neck out to see where it had gone when Judy's stressed-out voice burst into his left ear.

"Dad? What's happened?"

"Er... Our friend's gone AWOL again."

"The robot? Why is he doing that?"

"I'll ask him next time I see him."

"We should have expected this."

John glanced back at Harris and sighed. She was right. He should have expected this because it was the reality of the field that no plan resisted contact with the enemy. They weren't even out that things were going south already. Feeling like an amateur, John unfolded the ladder and dropped a glow stick to the bottom. The light faded out into the veil. Great. At least the Jupiter was proof that there was a solid ground beneath them, wasn't it?

"I'll go down first. You stay up here to pass me the equipment," he told Harris, tugging twice on his rope to check that it was secured. How many rings did this ladder have already? Eight or ten?

He'd counted seven when his foot hit the planet's floor hard. The thin crust of methane ice broke under his weight and he plunged knee deep into an icy pond.

"Dammit!" John pulled his leg out and checked for a tear in his suit.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

"I splashed into a puddle, that's all. Hey, Jude. I know it ain't easy, but keeping a constant eye on my vitals will drive us both crazy. Focus on what we've talked, okay?"

"Okay."

Her lack of enthusiasm worried him. The stress was gnawing at her. Not much he could to help her from here. John winced as he stared anew at the fog.

"Will?"

"Yes, dad?"

"I can't see an inch in front of me down here. Pull the Jupiter's schematics and tell me where exactly the fuel port is from the airlock hatch."

"Hold on a sec... It's on the starboard side. About seven meters from the airlock and two meters from the edge of the hull. Sorry, I can't be more precise than that."

"That will do. Thanks." John glanced up. Without the robot's extraordinary strength, bringing all their equipment down would be no picnic. "Hey, Harris? Pass me the first pipe, will you?"

Thirty minutes later, sweat rolled into John's eyes as he stood on his toes, arms extended above his head, struggling to gain the two inches he needed to connect the pipe to the fuel port. Once more, the soaring pain radiating from his left wrist forced him to take a break.

He turned toward his idle partner.

"Do you have a good balance?"

"I did gymnastics when I was a kid."

"Good enough." John handed Harris the pipe and kneeled in the fog. "Climb on my back."

"What?"

John waved her to comply. His day sucked enough without having to justify why or why not.

Harris leaned a hand on his helmet for support.

John stiffened a moan of pain as she managed to haul herself on his back. Tears stung his eyes. Oh god! A sumo would have been lighter! She was lifting the pipe when her left foot skidded on his compressed air tanks. As she swayed backward, John grabbed her rope and pulled her toward him to avoid her a potentially disastrous fall on her back. Last thing they needed was to detonate a bomb under the Jupiter.

"Sorry. I... I don't think it's a good idea anyway. I'm putting way too much weight on your tanks."

John kneeled back into the fog. "Try again."

To his relief, Harris's second attempt succeeded. John squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath. "When it's in position, lower the lever to engage the lock mechanism," he said through clenched teeth.

"Dad?"

"Not now, Jude." For god's sake, couldn't she disregard all distractions and focus on hyperbaric medicine? If things went sideways, and right now the odds of an accident happening increased by the second, her preparation would make the difference between life and death for him.

"Got it," Harris announced.

"The light on the control panel, is it green?"

"It's green."

"Good job. Now, get off my back."

Harris promptly obliged and John sat up fast on his heels, panting and cradling his injured arm.

"John?"

"I'm good," he said, thinking she was checking up on him like a teammate would. But her eyes weren't focused on him. She was scanning the fog with her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I heard a creaking."

John held his breath for a second. Because he'd boosted the earbud's volume in his left ear to the max so he could communicate with the crew despite his tinnitus, he was deaf to any ambient sounds. "What kind of creaking?"

"Like fingers drumming on a desk." Harris's eyes grew wide. "That one was sharper, more like a–"

John grabbed Harris's arm and pushed her away from the Jupiter. They rolled together for several feet when Harris suddenly screamed. Helpless, John watched her being dragged back into the fog. The ground shook hard and the methane ice broke under him. Only one thing could have caused such a shock: the Jupiter.

"Judy? Will? Penny? Are you alright? Kids, answer me!" he asked as he lay in a shallow puddle. So much for staying on one's feet.

"Penny accounted for."

"Will accounted for."

"Dad? I know you hate when I'm asking but–"

"I'm alright, Jude."

"I'm fine too, in case anyone wonders." Harris voice crackled into his ear. "Might need a little help, though..."

"Where are you?" John asked.

"Just beneath the airlock, I think. My rope got entangled on something."

"Okay, don't move. I'm coming to you."

John cracked another glow stick and walked around the Jupiter, inspecting the damage on his way to the airlock. The ground under the two front landing pods must have yielded under the Jupiter's weight and the ship lay at an angle, his butt up and his nose deep into the ice, which meant... John looked up and groaned.

"Stop wiggling, will you?" he told Harris who, six feet up in the air, was twisting her body like a worm to free her rope.

John took out his knife from its ankle holder.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Cling on my neck," he said, cutting her free.

Harris dropped in his arms. "I didn't sign for that!" the woman exclaimed, stepping away from him with a glare.

John grabbed the loose end of her rope and shot an eyebrow up. "Oh, yeah? And what did you sign up for exactly?" he asked while he tied her rope on his with a tautline hitch so she could slide up and down his rope if needed. "Now relax and watch your steps or we'll both fall."

On that, he put his knife back in its holder and picked up the second pipe. "Let's get moving."

As they got closer to the methane lake, the extraordinary strong pull of the planet gave the fog a weight of its own. John couldn't shake the chilling image of trudging his way through a thick, unending tunnel of spiderwebs. Each time the luminosity weakened, he glanced up to check that no arachnid-like creature hovered above his head.

John swallowed hard as his uneasiness grew. Was he hallucinating? He'd warned Harris about the bends but maybe flying pink elephants existed on this world. Would he recognize the difference between reality and nitrogen narcosis-induced delusion?

Having no idea on the matter, John dismissed the spiders and focused on counting his steps. He was at twenty-nine when Harris called him. She'd reached the end of the length of the pipe connected to the Jupiter.

While Harris lowered herself to connect the two pipes together, John stared at the fog anew.

"Done," she announced.

John squatted to double check. All good. "Okay, now you can go back to the Jupiter but don't untie yourself from my rope, okay? Wait for me there and we'll climb back in the airlock together. Think you can do that?"

"Yes, sir."

John ignored the disdain and turned to pursue his task when Harris let out a scream. What now? John swivelled his head and cursed.

She was hip deep into a puddle. He seized her arm and hauled her out on firm ground. Harris clutched on him.

"I've felt something! I've felt somemthing on the ground! There's something–"

John grabbed the panicking woman by the shoulders. "Calm down. That's the bends, remember? There's nothing here but us. Can you walk?"

Harris winced as she put some weight on her left foot. Her face transformed back into an expression of panic. "There's something freezing cold along my leg. Oh god, it hurts! It's burning!"

John reacted quickly. He kneeled next to her and wrapped the duct tape several times around her left leg. "You're done. I'll get you back to the airlock."

Twenty minutes later, John stood at the bottom of the airlock, alone in the methane fumes. Judy's voice crackled in his ears.

_"Dad, let me come with you,_" she asked, trying one more time to convince him to let her help him.

A shadow flew fast above him.

John cringed. What was that? It was gone.

"You have a patient, Jude. By the time you're done, I'll be done too."

_"I don't like this."_

"You don't have to like it. You just-"

_"I just have to do it, I know. I hate you." _

"Cheers up, Jude," John chuckled as he trudged back into the fog to proceed with the refuel operation on his own. The lake was, according to the geophysical data, less than ten feet ahead when despite his cautious steps, his right leg plummeted into a hidden puddle up to his thigh. The ice broke under his hands as he tried to haul himself out of his predicament. John froze and took a moment to ease his pounding heart.

Years ago at a party, they'd joked about being the first SEAL team to swim in Titan's methane lakes. Maureen had crushed their juvenile enthusiasm: liquid methane being less dense than water, they'd sink like stones to the bottom of said lakes. One of those lake was a few feet in front of him and its bank was unstable. One false move and he'd check Maureen's theory. Problem was, his wife was always right.

John tugged on his rope and felt better. But a tad only.

Slowly, he leaned forward and spread on his belly. Then, he heaved out of his hole and resumed his progression, crawling inch by inch, until the fragile ice sheet formed a ledge that dived into a steep incline. John pulled on the pipe and tipped it over into the fog.

Dammit. Deaf as he was, he couldn't hear a splash. And as burning out the pump wasn't an option, there weren't many ways to make sure the pipe wouldn't be sucking fumes instead of liquid fuel.

The methane was there, waiting for him to do what was necessary to get it.

John pushed himself up on his knees. He had a twelve feet leeway on his rope. Glad that Harris wasn't there to witness another blatant violation of his command, John untied his double overhand knot on his carabiner, replaced it with a Crossing Hitch so he could abseil to the surface of the lake, and tied a stop knot at the end of his rope to avoid going through it.

Then, after testing the solidity of the ground around the ledge, he stood up and positioned himself like he was on top of El Capitan on the most foggy day of the year. That there was probably only a dozen feet beneath him to the surface of the lake was an insignificant detail. It was the power of imagination that mattered.

Don't fall, Maureen's voice warned him in a corner of his mind. Yeah, I know. And climbing back up is going to be a bitch. I know that too. Now shut up and let me enjoy the moment, will you?

John squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Was his thrill a sign that he had the bends?

They needed the fuel.

Let's go get it then.

He was halfway through his rope when through the static crackling in his earbud, he thought he'd heard Harris's voice.

"Is everything good?" he asked.

No answer came. Just white noise.

John tightened his grip on the rope and kept moving.

"Hey, Will? Still there, buddy?"

Nope. Something was blocking his radio signal.

As the luminosity made the suspended crystals in the fog shine again, John touched a darker vein in the purple rock before pulling his hand away. The Jupiter's sensors hadn't picked up a significant level of radioactivity but he might be wise not to dawdle here too long.

John resumed his descent but stopped again when his legs suddenly felt freezing cold. He lowered his eyes and cursed upon noticing he was waist deep in methane.

Methane is less dense than water, Maureen's voice reminded him.

He hadn't felt any resistance as he'd obliviously waded into the methane lake.

After making sure that the pipe was in deep enough to pump six thousand gallons worth of fuel, John braced himself for a slow, grueling ascension.

"Jupiter two? Anyone hear me?" He kept asking as he struggled to pull his frame up the steep slope. Now, he really had to consider a diet. He'd put on way more weight than he thought. Twice more, eh! John laughed at his silly joke. Crap. He was bent.

As John paused to gather his breath, Judy's screaming voice broke through the static.

"DAD! COME BACK!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"There's something out there with you! It's attracted to light."

John quickly dimmed his helmet backlighting when a shadow crept right above his position.

The ground shook. Pieces of icy rocks fell over him. And the tension in his rope vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

Of Reality and Illusion

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 5

Tears blurred Maureen's eyes as a chilly wind lashed her face.

Folding the inflatable boat back into its crate was painful and difficult in more than one way. Her arms ached. She couldn't feel the extremities of her fingers anymore. A crushing pressure built in her chest.

For a thousandth time in the last ten days, she glanced at the sky above the ridge. Somehow, the storm seemed linked to the alien technology activating. Today, the mystery failed to stimulate her curiosity. The sky was a pure indigo blue. What was taking John so long to bring her kids back to her?

Maureen set her jaw and focused on her task.

She needn't worry for John and her children. Survival was in her husband's genes. Don and she were in a worse predicament. Despite John's earlier precautions, they had two weeks before they'd run out of food, four if they ate every other day. At least, the chariot's battery life wasn't an issue. Which meant they could leave to seek better hunting grounds.

After heaving the crate on the roof with an improvised system of pulleys, Maureen walked back to the shore and picked up a long, flat rock.

She couldn't hold back a sob. It seemed like yesterday that Will, Judy, and Penny had built Inukshuks in Point Mugu's park.

Don's long shadow hovered on her work.

"Stick figure with rocks. Nice! But how will they know in which direction we left?"

"The arm is pointing south."

"So south we go. Ready?"

Maureen took a shaky breath. No, she wasn't ready. She cast a last glance at the lifeless lake. "Yes, I am."

Every two hours they switched drivers, built a cairn, and resumed their way until the last ray of light disappeared and dusk turned the landscape without color into a uniformly grey world. Another cold night came, with the stars and a heavy wind. The tent rattled and Maureen lay, eyes open, in her sleeping bag.

This dull, silent routine resumed the next morning, and the next. They were well into their sixth day when a jolt stirred Maureen out of her half-catatonic state.

She leaned a hand on the upper side of the passenger door and stared outside. The flat, monotonous terrain had been replaced by a rugged, monotonous one and Don maneuvered the chariot at a walking pace.

"How much ground have we covered since the last stop?"

"Er... a little over twenty."

"That's all?"

"The last five miles killed our average-speed."

Maureen bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud. They'd covered a bit over two thousand miles and yet, no end to this desert was in sight. But at this slow a pace, running out of rations before finding better grounds became an ominous possibility. In her head, John's voice reminded her that plans seldom survived contact with the terrain. At least, they hadn't hit a cliff. Her eyes fixed on a distant scree on their left.

She frowned. "We're going downhill."

"Yep."

"This looks like the bed of an ancient glacier," she said, noticing what looked like a moraine two hundred feet in front of them, slightly on their right.

"At least we won't be short of rocks for cairns anytime soon."

Ten minutes later, Don brought the chariot to a stop at the bottom of the fifty-foot high rocky formation. "I need to stretch my legs."

Welcoming the pause in the jolts, Maureen opened her door and jumped out of her seat. Fresh air filled her lungs. Goosebumps covered her arms.

"The light is going down fast. Why don't we call it a day?" she called, rubbing her arms while Don climbed the scree. "I'll set up the tent."

She was searching for a flat spot when a whistle pierced the silence. Maureen looked up and frowned. Don was waving at her. She left everything on the ground and joined him.

"What is it?" she asked between two ragged breaths. The dry, cold air burnt her throat.

Her eyes widened.

"What the hell is that?" she whispered.

At the bottom of the ancient glacier, wreckage of space ships covered every inch of what had once been the glacier floodplain. But what mesmerized Maureen's eyes lay beyond.

A wide, linear trench cut the plain. And past it, a wild forest grew.


	6. Chapter 6

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 6

The rising suns inflamed the forest while cold shadows still swallowed the battleground as they reached the first wreckage. Maureen shuddered. This side of the trench was dead, even to the daylight.

One black obsidian ship lay on its side, half buried in the soil at the center of the impact crater, its thick fuselage cracked open like an egg shell. Thousands of pieces of debris littered the zone. One large chunk of fuselage that covered the stern belonged to another crashed ship. Another lay disintegrated nearby at the bottom of a crater.

While Don maneuvered around a ship with a titanium-like fuselage torn and bent as if it were mere foil, Maureen tried to make sense of the chaos.

All the wreckage was covered by a layer of earth and rocks of all sizes, proof that their crashes had lifted clouds of dust into the air. Had they fallen out of orbit like meteorites? Were they driving through the vestiges of a battle that had taken place in space?

"Don, stop!"

The chariot's wheels skidded to a halt on the uneven terrain, grinding and compacting the rubble.

"What is it?"

Maureen leapt out of the chariot and tip-toed toward a light grey panel, grabbing an aluminum rod on her way. Her heart raced as she lifted the metal sheet. A severed claw appeared, wedged between melted parts. Four dark cables, frayed like old electric cables, dangled out of it like tendons. That robot had been violently dismembered.

Where's the rest of him?

While Don prodded the robot's hand with a pout of disgust, she scanned the debris.

"Am I glad this is a robot's hand and not human remains, or I'd be puking right now."

"And yet, that part comes from a ship with a different technology."

"Well, it can't be human, anyway. The Resolute is the first intergalactic ship we produced."

Maureen rolled her eyes at Don's choice of words. Alpha Centauri was in the Milky Way. But he was right; those ships were proof that an advanced alien life existed in their galaxy. This was her childhood dream come true. So why wasn't she more thrilled?

Because the fulfillment of that old wish had come at too high a price, she thought when Don's voice burst ten yards on her left.

"Oh god! Is that a bone? It's a bone. I found a bone!"

"Are you going to puke?"

Don's shoulders sagged and he sent her a side look that said: "go ahead, make fun of me, I won't say anything."

Maureen trudged in the debris toward Don and kneeled next to his ominous find.

"Hey! Don't touch it. Who knows what alien disease the owner had!"

She shot the mechanic an exasperated glance and made a note in the corner of her mind to tell Judy to add "hypochondriac" to his medical file. Thinking about her daughter made her chest tighten and her eyes sting with sudden tears. She swept them away and focused on the twenty-inch-long bone.

"So carbon-based humanoid life most likely." Her voice quivered as she scanned the unending wreckage anew. It wasn't a junkyard. It was a charnel house.

"Do you think they fought each other? Humanoids against robots?"

"Whatever happened, they all lost."

And so had they. One day, their bones would litter this planet's soil to be picked up by other trapped travellers brought here against their will. At least John and the kids had escaped this death trap.

"We landed," she said, thinking out loud. "And we're not the first." Maureen's eyes grew wide as she connected a few dots, debris squeaking under her boots as she paced back and forth. "All these ships have one thing in common: they crashed from high enough to break into pieces on impact. The ship that made it into the forest left a furrow."

"So it landed, like us. More or less. You think there are survivors?"

"It's worth a look."

"I don't know… aliens? They might not be friendly. And anyway, there's that trench. How are we going to cross it?"

Maureen scanned the wreckage. The solution was right there. They were scavengers now.

Ten hours later, sweat drenched Maureen's back as Don fired their makeshift harpoon for the third time.

The chariot's winch cable, loose on the ground but still attached to the tensioner, flew across the two-hundred feet wide crevasse like a rocket, and hit a thick clump of trees and shrubs on the other side. Maureen switched on the tensioner motor to coil the thin iron cable and pull it taut over the trench.

"A little more," Don shouted to her, standing next to the edge, his hand on the cable. "Go on, a little more… stop."

Maureen stared at their zipline with a satisfied grin on her face. All they needed now was John's climbing gear. After his escapade to the lake, he had stored his material at the back of the chariot.

She was opening his backpack, taking out the harness, when Don stopped her.

"Let me go first. Your husband will kill me if I let you test this crazy stunt."

"I'm lighter. It makes sense for me to go first."

"Exactly the point. If that zipline holds my weight, it'll hold yours. The opposite isn't necessarily true. I'll go first. End of discussion."

Maureen opened her mouth to protest but the mechanic's suddenly stern look froze her. Don wasn't joking. She looked at the bush two hundred feet away and shuddered. The risk the zipline would yield wasn't insignificant. Had she become accustomed to risking her life? Was it an adrenaline addiction? A disguised suicide wish? A psychologist she was not and there was no time for analysis just now. She nodded and handed Don the harness.

Goosebumps covered her arms as he stood on the edge of the trench. She remembered John rappelling down El Capitan's East Ledges Descent route after his second deployment in Iran. Her body tensed at the memory. She'd hiked to the top with other military wives while their adrenaline-addicted husbands conquered the majestic rock.

"Geronimo!"

Don's war cry yanked her back to the present. The rope she'd attached to the harness to be able to bring it back to her side of the trench ran through her fingers. Holding her breath, she watched the cable bowing under his weight as he reached midway and the lack of slope bringing him to a stop. Obviously used to the drill, Don pivoted to face her, and hauled himself backward to the other side. Five long minutes later, his feet touched ground.

Maureen shouted a cry of relief and almost clapped her hands.

Don removed the harness and waved at her. She waved back, and while he jogged to the clump of trees to check on the cable's anchor, she pulled on the rope to retrieve the harness.

His head emerged above a shrub. "All good!" Don's raised his thumbs up above his head.

Harness on, Maureen grabbed the cable and checked the trolley. She hooked up her carabiners and inched toward the ledge, avoiding to look at the one-hundred-and-fifty foot deep chasm. Strapping herself to a weather balloon had been way more crazy than that. And Don wouldn't give her a go if he had any doubt about the cable. She wiped her sweaty hands on her thighs and put on her gloves. Maureen checked her harness for a third time.

"Come on, Maureen! You can do it!" Don shouted from the other side.

Sure she could. Here goes nothing!

Maureen pushed on her toes and jumped. The wind whipped her hair and she had a moment of hope that she'd given herself enough momentum to reach the other side. Just then, she slowed down, stopped, and slid back, fifty feet away from her destination.

Her arms were burning long before she reached it. Don grabbed her hand and hauled her on firm ground.

"There you go."

"Thank God," she whispered, panting and shaking, both from effort and emotion.

"Don will be enough for now." The mechanic turned away with a grin and stepped toward the wide furrow the ship had carved in the forest.

After taking a few deep breaths to ease her hear rate, Maureen trudged up the muddy path. The storm was maybe just that, then: a storm with lightning and torrential rains.

"Why do engineers always multiply their estimates by pi?" he asked as she joined him.

Maureen sighed, uncertain that she was in a mood for bad dad jokes. "You tell me."

"To explain why their estimates are always irrational."

She rolled her eyes when her foot skidded. Don grabbed her arm and pulled her back straight. "Thanks, Don," she said with a touch of sarcasm.

"It's back to Don already? I'm hurt. But I understand. It's okay. Don it is. It's your turn by the way."

"For what?"

"Lightning up the atmsophere."

Really? Okay. "Why should you never expect a long-term relationship with a mechanic?"

"Because he screws nuts and bolts. Come on! You can do better."

"What's the mechanic's word for a shovel?"

"Er… wait a sec, I know that one… that's..."

"Ground-breaking technology."

"I knew it!"

Maureen couldn't help but chuckle. However, the gravity of their situation came back fast. "Those trees were burnt," she said, coming to a halt near a trunk.

Don crouched in front of it, brushed the dark layer on the mud, and sniffed his fingers. "No fuel residue, but it's recent. A couple of months maybe."

They'd covered a hundred feet when something gleaning at the bottom of an uprooted tree on her right caught Maureen's attention.

While Don kept on going straight, Maureen veered toward the object. She crouched and dug around titanium-like debris to unearth it.

"What the…" Her words died in her throat as she stared at the small, flat, metal box. Was this a micro-inverter? Impossible. Frowning, she turned the part upside down. Her eyes grew wide as she dusted the edge and–

Don cursed loudly.

Maureen glanced over her shoulder. Thirty feet away from her, the mechanic staggered and half-fell half-threw himself to the ground. The sickening thud of his head knocking against a rock scared her half to death. She dropped the micro-inverter, jumped to her feet, and rushed to his help. The memory of John bleeding on the hub's deck after being violently pushed aside by the robot twisted her guts as she reached him.

"Let me see," she said, trying to pry his hands away from his head. No blood seeped through his fingers but a dark bruise was swelling just above his left eye. "Look at me. Don?"

The mechanic blinked a few times and winced. "Why do I see four of you? One is already more than I can manage."

Maureen frowned. Was he serious? A concussion was the last thing they needed right now.

"Relax, I'm just kidding. Help me stand up, please."

Of course he was kidding! By his own words, Don West was almost never serious.

She scanned their surroundings. "What spooked you?"

"This," he replied just as she caught sight of a robot's severed head and arm half buried in a deep groove. "I thought it was about to blast a hole in me, but it was just the sun reflecting off its face."

Maureen's lips trembled. A broken solar panel lay in the ditch next to the robot. The landing ship was a human ship. And not many ships had disappeared without leaving a trace.

Nervously, she strode and ran down the furrow until it appeared in front of her, right there... Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees.

The rush of blood made her temples pulse while she stared, eyes wide at Grant's scratched and dented but otherwise almost intact ship. But it was impossible! The Fortuna was a vertical take-off and landing ship. It should have broken in at least four sections. Maureen frowned as she notices black cables on the fuselage.

"The fucking bastards!"

Maureen jumped as Don, standing next to her, pointed the ship. "So they're the ones behind the Fortuna's disappearance. The robots! I can't believe it!" In his voice, there was a mix of outrage and thrill. In her eyes, there was only shock. "I was a kid but it was all over the news. Do you remember how long ago?"

"Nineteen years and two months," she whispered, cuddling into a ball as her stomach suddenly ached.

"That much? You sure?"

How could she forget Judy's age? Grant had died four months before his daughter's birth. Judy would turn nineteen in a few weeks. In her last communication with Grant, she'd told him she was pregnant. His smile was still imprinted in her memory. They never were able to make contact with the crew again. Six months later, Nasa officially declared the Fortuna lost.

"Hey, you okay?"

Don squeezed her shoulder when leaves rustled on their right.

Maureen froze as two ghosts emerged from the forest line.

"Are you two alone?" Cynthia Powell asked while Mark Thornhill, mission specialist, darted into the ship's aft module.

Maureen clapped a shaking hand over her mouth. Her head spun as the Fortuna's flight engineer and thesis director ran toward her.

She hadn't aged a day! How this could be possible? How could Cynthia be alive, twenty years later, looking like she'd just left the day before?

Maureen gasped as her old mentor stretched her hand to her without giving any sign that she recognized her former student.

"Come with us! Quick!"


	7. Chapter 7

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 7

You can't swim in liquid methane. You won't have enough buoyancy. You will drop like a stone. It's simple physics.

Guess what, Maureen? I'm swimming!

John furiously kicked and stroked in the low-density liquid, stretching his arms toward the surface of the methane lake. But the surface was nowhere to be seen anymore. Why would it be? His wife was always right. No swimming in Titan's lakes. Didn't you see the freaking warning post on the bank?

Oppressive darkness closed in on John. Alarms blared in his helmet but the vapor from his breath blurred the readings on his visor. The helmet ventilation system was failing. Not that he needed to see them anyway to get the measure of his predicament. The pressure and depth increased. The temperature and his suit battery power dropped.

Confirming his analysis, the critical failure alarm pierced his ears an instant later.

John drew a deep breath as his visor shut off. Terror crushed his guts, not for himself but for his kids, trapped in this inhospitable world, and for Judy, who would go out to look for him, risking her life without hesitation.

John shouted out in rage and sorrow.

Tears filled his eyes but didn't roll down his face, instead forming sharp crystals on his eyelashes. With his suit's heating off, the cold, already brutal, cramped his muscles to the point of paralysis. His blood was freezing in his veins.

For the first time in his long career in special forces, John stopped fighting. He stopped shivering. His eyes closed. Death was coming.

I'm sorry, Maureen...

In his last conscious thoughts, he remembered floating face down in the public swimming pool, holding his breath to build his carbon dioxide resistance. How old was he? Six? Seven? He could again feel the lifeguard's arm sliding under his chest to pull him out of the pool. But it hadn't been as cold as now.

John grunted. Something was wrong. He was shivering anew.

The constricted feeling in his ribcage increased. Air expanded in his burning lungs.

Wait. Was he moving up? How come?

Years of training overrode his confusion. John exhaled deliberately, fighting the pressure building in his lungs. The pain lessened a bit. Encouraged, he exhaled again. And again. But soon, he couldn't keep the pace. Air was expanding faster than he could expire.

Jax, slow down, man... he thought as his mind brought him back the day a mine had exploded during a training exercise and knocked him out cold. He didn't remember Jax bringing him up back to the surface, making sure he didn't drown. He just remembered waking up on the deck of the carrier.

John opened his eyes.

Red bubbles of methane boiled around him. His buddy's arm was clenched around his chest, dark and bulky. And white lights pulsed along thin cables that seemed plugged into his main controller.

It wasn't Jackson! Adrenaline rushed into John's veins as he struggled to free himself but the robot held him tightly, pulling him toward the surface way too fast. Obviously, whoever had programmed his cyber partner had skipped human physiology 101. John stopped struggling to focus on his breathing.

Tears of pain flooded his eyes when the robot laid him down on the bank.

His lungs aflame, John rolled to his side, panting and coughing heavily. Dropplets of blood splashed on his visor. John squeezed his eyes shut as bile rose to his mouth. Keep it down, man, keep it down. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. Another fit of cough seized him. Oh god, it hurt to breathe... At last, the nausea ebbed but it left him exhausted. John forced his eyelids to open and blinked at the close sight of the robot's shining face, staring at him, came into focus. That was surreal. But today, surreal was fine. No, better than fine, it was miraculous. Yes. It was nothing short than a fucking miracle. John laughed insanely. He was alive.

A bright light lit up the fog above them. The robot cringed and swivelled his long articulated neck to look behind him. The dark cables plugged into John's suit retracted suddenly and, without warning, the robot leaped into the fog.

His stiff body now shaking uncontrollably, John stared in disbelief at the spot where the robot had stood just a second ago. What the fuck?! What was the point in saving him if it was to leave him alone in the middle of this fog? Did the robot think he could see through it? He was dead.

Resisting a growing urge to close his eyes and sleep, John rolled on his stomach and rose on all fours when Judy's high-pitched voice burst through the ringing in his ear.

_"Dad? Are you okay? Your vitals are all off the charts."_

"Er... Are they?" John clenched his chattering teeth.

_"You're hypothermic. __Can you come back to the Jupiter on your own?"_

"I'm working on it."

Wincing, he pushed on his hands and slowly stood up. The effort left him breathless but less dizzy than he'd feared it would. He was tottering left and right with the severed end of his rope in hand when another bright light lit up the fog. Something big had displaced the mist in front of him and for a brief moment, he thought he'd seen the Jupiter.

_"Dad, stay where you are, I'm coming."_

"No. I'm good. You stay inside I don't need help."

_"Your heart rate just jumped from fifty-eight to a hundred and thirty-two and your temp is below ninety-seven. Don't tell me you're fine."_

"I'm good, Jude. I swear. I can handle a little cold. Tell me how are things going on your side: is Harris ok?"

_"Something sharp cut through her suit and she's got a nasty frostbite on her ankle that's all. Just watch your steps, okay?"_

John grunted as he looked down and couldn't see his legs below his knees. "Will do," he said. Talking triggered a cough and more blood splattered his visor. Great...

_"Dad?"_ Will called.

"Yes, buddy?"

_"The pump is reaching critical temperature. We're at seventy-eight percent of refuel. Maybe you should turn it off before it burst."_

John gasped at the news. The pump was on, huh? He chuckled as a weight lifted off his chest. The robot was a team player after all. He had his back covered. He wasn't alone in this muck. That thought gave him the energy he needed to stay on his feet.

But a few seconds later, a violent tremor shook the ground and threw him off balance.

"Will? What happened? Will, do you copy?" he shouted, terrified that the pump had exploded.


	8. Chapter 8

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 8

The jungle went silent.

Maureen raised her eyes toward the canopy as a gust of hot, humid air swept through the dense foliage. She leaped to her feet and bolted through the uneven path that led back to the Fortuna and the trench. Grant shouted her name. She ignored him because she didn't have time to waste. Already she could feel the static spreading through the air, lifting her hair on her bare arms. The sky turned a stormy hue, the fourth time this month, and the thirty-sixth since she reunited with the Fortuna's crew almost a year ago. Maureen increased her pace, jumping above roots and climbing moss covered boulders, grabbing branches to keep her balance on the rough terrain. She skidded and hurtled down a steep, muddy incline. The leaf-covered ground cushioned her fall. She was hauling herself on her feet when Grant caught her arm.

"For god's sake, Maureen. Stop."

"Let go of me, Grant."

Their eyes met and his fingers unclenched from around her arm. Maureen pivoted and resumed her course.

Twenty minutes later, he crouched next to her as she sat on top of the cliff that offered a view on the wreckage zone. The arrow-shaped stones in the middle of the trench still produced lightning but it was quieting down. They had fulfilled their function of protector. Thousands of burning fragments of a ship rained down from the sky. No one would reach the planet's surface alive.

Grant squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, it wasn't them. I'm sure they're safe."

Maureen kept her eyes straight as the downpour began, a meteorological consequence of the activation of the trench.

"When time ceases to be linear, how can you be so sure? For all we know, they might be one of the ships that crashed long ago. Long before we even first landed here."

Maureen pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms. Grant's strong, young arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders. She collapsed against his chest, crying. This was more than she could endure, one ordeal too many. Why couldn't the earth open beneath her and swallow her once and for all?


	9. Chapter 9

A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

* * *

Chapter 9

In the fog, John quickly sat up on his knees. "Will, do you copy?" he shouted again. If the pump had exploded just below the Jupiter and caused a breach in the hull... "Please, guys, come in."

_"Dad?_"

"Will! Are you okay?"

_"The garage ramp just opened. The Jupiter is in lockdown but I managed to put the communications back on."_

John let out a deep sigh of relief. Smart kid. "Judy? Penny? Come in, please!"

_"I'm here, dad."_

"Penny? Where are you?"

_"In the hub. I'm okay."_

"Where's your sister?"

_"I don't know."_

"Judy? What's your situation?"

A cold sweat pearled on John's forehead when he got no answer. His daughter had been staring at his vitals for the last hour, no chance she had missed the spike in his heart rate just now. "Judy?" He swallowed hard. She was safe. She hadn't been in the garage when it had filled with the planet's toxic atmosphere. No way. Knowing her, she probably was suiting up in the airlock and might have been knocked out by the shock.

"Harris?"

No answer there either, but that worried him less. Maybe Judy had given her something for the pain and she was out.

Another burst of light lit up the fog on his right. The Jupiter's bulky shadow appeared again briefly, but more distinctively than the previous time.

John corrected his course and trudged his way back to the ship. As he progressed, the fog became brighter, as if a campfire lit up the space in front of him. Not just in front of him. As the Jupiter hull slowly took shape, he realized that the source of the light was just under the ship, where the pump was. John froze. Things with large, flat wings were flying into the fog there. Animals attracted by light, like moths. John winced as a two-foot wide wing had partially came out of the fog ten feet in front of him. Pretty big moths.

Something flapped hard against his back and sent him head first into the ground as a hree-sting tail hit just in front of his helmet. John cursed. Not moths! Stingrays! Not daring to move anymore, he stayed flat on his stomach until the beast flew away.

_"Dad? The pump is reaching critical temperature. __If you don't turn it off now, it'll blow." _

Will's warning sent a cold shudder running down his spine.

_"Dad? Did you hear me?"_

"Yeah. I'm working on it."

John stared at the pump, ten feet in front of him. So close and yet so out of reach.

No matter how much he tried to blend into the icy ground, there was no way he'd get to the pump without being skewered by one of those weird flying stingrays. They were just too many of them. The pulsing light from the dark cables, plugged by the robot into the pump to speed up the refueling process, attracted the alien creatures like moths.

John risked a glance up. The stingray had moved a bit further on his left. Its tail was still too close for comfort but it was better than a few seconds earlier.

What was he going to do?

If the pump exploded, shrapnel would tear right through the Jupiter's hull.

Maybe if he cut the cables, the pump would stall or Will could turn it off from the cockpit. Yep. That was his only option.

Moving slowly not to attract the creatures' attention, John crawled back toward the ramp when a ray of fire burst from inside the ship. A monstruous specimen flew out of the garage, struck down. But it barely disappeared into the fog that three more stingrays flew in. John cursed as he retrieved his knife in its ankle holster. This wasn't going to end well.

_"Dad! Get out of there! It's about to blow!"_ Will shouted.

Dammit!

John pushed on his toes and leaped forward as far as he could, stretching his arm toward the cables. Just as his fingers brushed them, a tail hammered into the ground next to his right hand like an ice axe. While the beast tried to dislodge itself, John sliced the alien cables one by one. A detonation burst, powerful and immersive. The ground rumbled and the air rattled. An excruciating pain pierced his skull, leaving him with only one thought: either the pump had exploded or the Jupiter had crashed on him.

But it was neither because both would have killed him instantly and yet he was still breathing. In fact, he was more like panting, but it was all the same. He was alive. Something was wrong. As John blinked to get rid of the burning mix of tears and sweat in his eyes, he realized that he couldn't see. Why couldn't he see? Oh, god... Loss of vision was a sign of decompression illness. Was this hapening to him? John's breathing became fast and shallow. His ears started ringing again, louder than before, and he tasted bile in his mouth.

_"Dad?! It worked! I just turned off the pump! Dad? Do you hear me? I switched off the pump!"_

Will's victorious cry sent his headache soaring.

Get a hold on yourself, man. While he berated himself, his sight adjusted to the darkness. A faint halo diffused on either side of the ramp. He wasn't blind. Oh, of course he wasn't. He'd sliced the cables so they didn't produce light anymore. That's what the detonation was about: alien cables didn't like to be cut.

_"Dad! Are you okay?"_

"Yeah... I am now."

John wriggled from underneath the ramp when a fast series of fire bursts pulverized three stingrays, sending them flying back into the fog.

Not suicidal enough to get on the ramp with his cyber partner all worked up, John disconnected the pipes, coiled them, and closed the fuel port. When all that remained to do was to pack up and go, he made his way back to the ramp with the equipment. As he approached, four quick shots sliced the air. Two beasts flew out. John dropped on his stomach fast to avoid being hit by the three ones flying in.

Different galaxy, same drill.

Keeping his head low, he crawled up the ramp and entered a surreal storm.

Dozens of stingrays flew in circles in the garage, lit up by hundreds of cables that with the robot, barred the access to the mechanical room. The stingrays bumped against the bulkheads and each others as they attacked. The robot fired or batted with his four arms, carbonizing or dispatching two, three or more specimens at once.

John threw himself behind a couple of crates on his left as a burst of fire hit a stingray in front of him. The creature hit the bulkhead with a loud thud. John stared at it sticking to the wall for a few seconds before it collapsed to the deck at his feet. In a last nervous spasm, the tail jerked up in front of him. John pulled his feet away fast. Only when it ceased to move, did John risk a glance above the crate.

The robot was barely visible anymore, overcome by the beasts' continuous assault. Each fallen one was promptly replaced by three more, fresh and furious.

This was nuts.

The beasts were only attracted to the light, and the more the robot tried to fend off their attack, the more came in. It was like a crazy feedback loop. They just had to turn off the fucking lights, that's all. How come the robot couldn't understand that? He was protecting the reactor. That was why he defended the access to the mechanical room. John didn't think the stingrays were after the reactor at all but he understood why the robot had this analysis of the situation. If anything happened to the reactor, they were stuck. There was no way back to Maureen. This had to end now.

The robot collapsed to his knees. A stingray immediately swooped above him. The robot jerked one of his arms up, caught it, and pinned it down the deck.

John eyed at the crate containing his diving bottles, thinking fast above his options. Unfortunately, retrieving his custom-made rifle wasn't one of them. He simply didn't have the time. On another side, what he could do fast was close the ramp. That would at least halt the inflow of stingrays. And depressurize the garage! Yes. That was it. All he had to do was shut the damn ramp and initiate the depressurization. The computer would automatically detect the toxic atmosphere and purge the methane to replace it with air. That should be more than enough to kill the creatures. John chuckled nervously at the simplicity of the solution. Until he twisted his neck to look at the garage control panel on the wall on the right side of the ramp. It was only fifteen feet away but those fifteen feet were a minefied doubled by a shooting range.

Just like home. He hadn't liked it at the time, he didn't like it much today, but the trick was the same: he didn't have to like it; he just had to do it.

Hit the deck, man.

John had barely flattened back on his belly when a heavy weight crushed his back. He brought his elbows against him to protect his sides from the stingray powerful wings as the animal took off again. This was suicide. But not doing anything was suicide too. A ball of fire blasted the deck a foot from his face. Another stingray crashed against him. John slithered to his left to avoid crawling above a dead corpse when a monstruous wing flapped the deck on his right. He'd almost reached his destination when a soaring pain shot through his right thigh.

Gasping for breath, John kicked the beast off his leg and resumed crawling despite the spasm that seized his punctured thigh. Seeing black spots in front of his eyes, he leaned on the bulkhead and staggered to his knees, streched his arm toward the red button, and slammed his fist on it.

At once, the ramp started to close.

John collapsed on his stomach but didn't relax yet. The stingrays were still flying. All too aware of the vulnerability of his position while the computer engaged the safety protocols, he dragged his sore body toward a crate when a stingray flying in before the ramp closed crashed on him. The blunt force of the collision sent him rolling like tumbleweed in the middle of the garage where two more beasts dived on him like eagles on fish, all stings forward. John grabbed his knife in his ankle holster when he was hit from behind.

A leak alert blared into his ears. Terror seized him. It was his tank. He was leaking oxygen in a flamable atmosphere!

An excruciating pain tore through his left arm. There were too many of them on him. John struggled to break free when suddenly, the chaos around him came to a slow halt. The stingrays hovered weakly. Some settled, others dropped on the deck. Alarms and pains and dizziness numbed his mind as he stared in confusion. A familiar tension in his lungs snatched him out of his haze. His suit's oxygen pressure was decreasing. So was the garage atmospheric pressure. John exhaled while the beasts convulsed on the deck. Then, after half a minute, they stopped moving.

John shut his eyes. It was over. They had won.

"Will? You there, buddy?" he asked, struggling not to fall asleep as the adrenaline wore off.

"_Dad, where are you? Are you okay?"_

"Give me the garage's status."

"Pressure and atmosphere normal."

Judy's voice prompted John to open his eyes.

"Think you can make it to the main deck by yourself, old man?"

The relief to see her in front of him, safe and sound, was so intense that it brought tears to his eyes and he didn't make any effort to hold them back.

He chuckled. "I'm not old. But give me a hand, will you?"

He lifted his right arm toward her when he noticed the marks framing her face. "What are those?" he asked, knowing the answer perfectly well because he'd seen them on his face his whole life.

"Good thing you brought your diving equipment after all. It's three sizes too big for me but it did the job.

He gasped. His daughter had been in the garage the whole time. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Better than you."

Her cocky smile transformed into a wince.

"What?"

"I used one of the bottles I intended for you in case you had a decompression accident."

The blood drained from his face. "Which one?"

"Er..."

"What was written on it?" he pressed, causing her to cringe.

"Nitrox, I think."

John dropped his head back with a sigh of relief. Good choice. "Did you exhale all the way when the garage depressurized?"

"Your computer guided me through the process step by step. Pretty claustrophobic experience though. I don't know how you can work in this."

Thank god she was a quick learner. And she was damn lucky too.

John leaned back against the crate and mulled on whether or not to remind her that she hadn't been claustrophobic before her traumatic brush with death in the ice.

"Hey, do you feel nauseous?" Judy asked.

"A bit."

"Are your ears still ringing?"

"Yep. Are you talking loud?"

"I'm not shouting like you but yes. I'm talking louder than usual."

He hadn't realized that he was shouting. Which was good because if he still had the force to shout, he must be better than he felt.

"Come on, let's go upstairs before you faint."

"I'm not going to faint," he protested as the robot joined them. "Hey, thanks, buddy! I wouldn't have make it without you," he said, referring to the dive in the lake.

John stretched his arm toward him and formed a fist, knowing that Will had taught him the sign. But instead of bumping his fist, the robot grabbed his hand and hoisted him on his feet with so much force that his elbow's joint almost popped out of his socket.

"Need leave now, Pilot."

Without warning, the robot let go of him. John staggered backward but promptly lifted his right foot off the deck when pain started soaring up his spine.

"Interesting four new words," Judy said with a shrug. "You sure you can walk, Pilot?"

"More like limp, but I can give it a try," he replied, straightening himself with a grunt. The day wasn't over yet. There was one last thing to do.

Judy wrapped his right arm around her neck. "Mom's going to be so pissed when she sees the mess you two have caused," she said as she helped him cross the devastated garage.

"She loves to redecorate, doesn't she?"

"Dead animals for carpet and blast burns for wallpaper. I'm sure she'll be thrilled. I can't wait to show her."

John laughed but his joy vanished at the bottom of the ladder. He really had to ask his wife about installing an elevator.

The robot was already at the helm when they entered the cockpit a few minutes later. Penny and Will sprung toward him. "You're all okay?" he asked them, noticing Harris's pale face in the corner.

"Sit, everybody," the robot ordered.

"He's getting better. One more week and he'll qualify for PK," Penny said with an appreciative grin that earned her a nudge from her brother.

John strapped his harness while the robot turned to face the dark arch of cables in front of the windshield. The alien frequency weakly reverberated once more in the cockpit. From the corner of the eye, John saw his children cringe and hurry to put on their earplugs but the noise didn't annoy him this time. Being half deaf had its perks.

"Take us back to my wife, please."

"And Don," Judy added quickly.

As the robot adjusted the position of his hands on his helm, John shot an ambivalent glance at his daughter and frowned when he saw her dreamy smile. He was pondering what it meant when the force of a vertical take-off pinned him into the pilot's seat and a wave of pain forced him to focus on his breath instead of his daughter's juvenile fantasies.

The murky light from the planet's high atmosphere weakened and a deep dark night replaced it. Space, at last. His head was swimming and his eyes closed by themselves, but John didn't allow himself to relax yet. Though the robot did all the piloting right now, there was a reason he called him "pilot". An educated guess told him it had something to do with their ship sharing a hybrid source of power. At some time, he expected being asked to take over. Which wasn't going to be fun since his left hand was one huge ball of pain.

A blinding light poured into the cockpit as the fabric of space in front of the Jupiter tore apart in shades of blue and purple and white. John squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them anew, a soft blue light filled the windshield.

"We're back!" Will exclaimed.

The robot tilted his head toward Will, then toward John.

The dots in his face weakened and the lights running along the dark cables slowed down to a halt. The ark shut off and the navigation screen switched to the engine systems status. Fuel was filling the lines.

"Thank you," John said as he took command of the Jupiter.

The robot nodded. Then, he slowly headed into a corner, as if he was looking for an alcove to rest, and shut down.

"What's happening to him?" Will asked.

"I don't think he can operate on this planet without triggering those electric storms," Penny said.

"That must be it. Something in the planet's atmosphere doesn't react well to his physiology or technology," Judy added.

"So he brought us to refuel so we could explore all by ourselves?" Will asked.

"He must have realized that we couldn't survive in a desert," Judy said.

John wedged the joystick between his knees with a moan of pain and grabbed the throttle with his right hand. He stabilized the ship in a high orbit before setting the autopilot to their last landing coordinates. Then, he lay back in his seat and closed his eyes, listening to his kids talking about the planet and the binary stars while the computer analyzed the request and extrapolated the data. Their resilience was incredible, he thought. Judy was right. He was getting old.

"If he knew he couldn't come, why did he bring us here in the first place?"

"Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he gave it a try. Who knows?" Judy replied.

A beep sounded. John opened his eyes. Coordinates locked blinked on the navigation screen. John shook the numbness away and straightened up. "Strap back in your seats. Here we go."

Forty minutes later, they flew above the desert plain and the lake where they had settled camp. John's throat tightened as he glanced at his watch. They'd been away for less than sixteen hours. Maureen and Don couldn't have gone far in such a short time. And yet, he couldn't see them on the screen.

"Hey, Penny. Why don't you try the radio?"

"Jupiter two to chariot eleven, do you copy?"

No answer.

"They must be out of range," Judy said.

John's gut twisted. He should have seen them by now. Where were they?

"Look!" Will exclaimed. "Down there next to the lake. That's an Inukshuk!"

"Mom's preferred form of art. So practical and straight to the point," Penny said. "And it's pointing South."

"You have to admit it does the job in a creative way," Judy added.

"Why on Earth do things always have to have a function?" Penny replied. "Art should be meaningless, not engineered."

"We're not on Earth."

While the sisters squabbled, John followed his wife's trail of Inukshuks and cairns. From the sky, the lake and the desert surrounding it looked like the bare rocks of a vast, melted glacier descending toward a green, uneven valley.

"What the heck is that?" he muttered as they flew above a five hundred acre wide wreckage zone and the fault at the front line of the forest.

John squinted. That thing didn't seem natural.

Will leaped off his seat and pointed to the left side of the windshield. "Look over there! That's the chariot!"

His sisters joined him at the front. John sighed. He wanted to tell them to strap back into their seat when Maureen's voice crackled. "_Ju… ter.. Two…"_

Judy rushed back to the radio. "Mom? Do you copy?"

_"Judy? Oh my god, Judy, is it you? Is it really you?"_

"Yes, mom. It's me! Why all the emotion? Did you really think we'd leave you behind?"

"Hey, mom, you'll never guess what we did!"

_"Will? Oh my god, I can't believe it's finally you."_

"I'm here too, mom."

_"Oh my sweet Penny, are you all alright?"_

"Sweet?" Penny cringed in disgust. "What's wrong with you, mom? Did you fall on your head or what?"

Judy rolled here eyes. "Sure we are alright. But where are you guys?"

_"I've missed you so much, my loves."_

John winced. My loves? Didn't matter... "Maureen? I'm locked onto your signal. Is there enough place to land where you are?" he asked urgently as a sudden numbness ceized him and he struggled to keep his eyes open. More worrying, his breathing was becoming more shallow and raspy.

_"You've got plenty of room to park near the river."_

"Roger that. We'll touched down in about a minute."

Plenty of room was an exaggeration, John discovered as he deployed the Jupiter's landing pods over a few shrubs and some low vegetation growing on a beach next to a lively stream that curved its way around a two-hundred-foot high cliff.

"Mom's always been the best at picking a camping spot!" Will said as he dashed out of the cockpit with Penny on his heels.

"How could they have travelled so far? That's not possible!" she asked.

"Let's go ask them!" Judy said, jumping off her seat and joining her siblings.

While his excited kids' footsteps echoed in the corridor, John raised a hand toward the screen to open the garage ramp. But his finger slid on the screen and his arm flopped on his lap.

"John? What's wrong?"

He heard Harris's question but didn't know how to answer. His left arm hurt but not as much as it had five minutes ago. In fact, a lot of the pain had receded. His injured thigh didn't burn at all, but for good reason: he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

A deep sadness engulfed him as the edges of his vision blurred and darkened. This wasn't a simple exhaustion.

"John? JUDY!"

Harris's panicked cry reverberated.

He had brought the kids back to their mother. Mission accomplished. He could rest now. Like the robot, he'd done his duty. He just wished he'd seen Maureen one last time before he went. To make sure she was fine. She'd sounded like she was crying over the radio. And there was something weird going on.

Something jolted him back to consciousness but just barely. Hands were unbuckling his harness. They were laying him on the deck. It was hard under his head.

"Dad? Stay with me, dad, please. DAD!"

He forced his eyes to crack open.

"I'm sorry, Jude…" he whispered as the light disappeared and all feeling ceased.

END OF PART III

Coming next: Part IV "The Rabbit Hole"


End file.
